


ICARUS

by gaysontodds



Series: Because we’re not as okay as we seem. [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Justice League - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne isn’t okay, Lots of Cursing, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, alot of talking, and bruce taking it really intimately but not doing anything, but don’t worry he comes back, cursing, jason and Bruce look alike so that’s kind of mentioned, jason is dead, like it’s just Clark taking Bruce’s shit, minor out of character, no beta we die like jason todd, only because I’m exploiting shit that no one cares to look into, superbat is there but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysontodds/pseuds/gaysontodds
Summary: There are no words to describe the loss of a child. The sight of your creation, one that was growing and flourishing to thrive on it's own being ripped away from you in a fraction of a second. The pain that you feel is indescribable, everyday becomes a fight to stay alive as you count the days until you're able to hold them again.The days picked away at the cracks of Bruce's faltering person. Minutes would pass as the struggle to work properly and get up would feel like eternities.  The memory of his son's bruised and battered body limp in his hands engraved in his mind to haunt him to his death and the effects of it for him to carry. Any semblance of mental clarity he had vanished that night with his son's life.( prequel to I’m sorry )
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Diana Prince & Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen & Bruce Wayne
Series: Because we’re not as okay as we seem. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926007
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	ICARUS

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I wrote this as a prequel to my fic “ I’m sorry” it’s supposed to give more insight on Bruce because let’s face it, the man has some shit going on and I’ve been really into watching Batman psychology breakdown videos. It kind of sparked something in me to really register Bruce’s mental illness crap and trauma too, so here you go.
> 
> One of the main disorders that were thrown around a lot were borderline personality disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, dissociative identity disorder and antisocial disorder.  
> I was able to mainly stick with borderline personality, post traumatic stress and obsessive compulsive disorder, because those are the ones I am able to identify the most with Bruce as a character and it’s also the ones I’m most familiar with and feel most confident on not fucking up entirely. 
> 
> I’m not saying I portrayed any of them correctly but I did a lot of research on them and there symptoms and kind of aligned them with my knowledge on Batman mythos. I want to clarify that my fic is not an accurate representation of any of these illnesses and I’m only going by what I’ve read/ studied and the bits of it I’ve had encountered in real life. Also, a lot of Bruce’s emotions and turmoil is stemming from Jason’s death, everything else is just amplifying his behavior and reactions.
> 
> Please do not bash me if I made any mistakes and also do NOT use this fic as a way to relate and diagnose yourself because again I’m not a therapist and I do not suffer from any of these mental disorders, so I won’t be able to accurately give you insight. I can only portray what I’ have knowledge of to the best of my writing abilities. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy the fic 🙈❤️

**THREE DAYS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD .**

_**According to Brueghel , when Icarus fell** _

It's 9:30 on a Wednesday morning, and instead of being back home in the manor and inside the comfort of his cosy room, with his son sleeping next door . He had been outside Gotham city's coroner's office with tinted glasses to cover his grief filled eyes as he struggled with himself to go inside. His son was not by his side helping him push through, but was the one on the other side of the building waiting for him to enter. His son that had a smile that shined like the sun and eyes that glowed in the dark like a moon. The son that he let fly too high, only to see his wings burn off and was helpless to see him fall. 

_**it was spring** _

The walls he built around his mind were tumbling down with every step he took, the battle he was facing was worse than any other he's fought before. The harrowing part of it all was that there was no one here for him to fight against but himself. It's funny how everything went slower than what reality would allow when a tragedy arrives . The doors before him opened as men and women alike exited and entered the facility, paying no attention to the hurting man before them as they've been privileged enough to see same expression on many more before him.

**_a farmer was ploughing his field_ **

His feet worked like clockwork the minute he entered the building, surfing through the wave of people with calculated ease, he guided himself to the main desk that was accompanied by a heavy set woman who looked like she worked too many hours for the wrong amount of pay. He wondered how it was like to work in such a position, to guide people to see their loved ones taken from them. How quick was it for her to dissociate the feelings of sadness and sympathy for the ones who had to carry the anguish of their lost son or daughter, husband or wife, father or mother. How much of her did it take to turn to apathy to get her to go through the day of seeing the same verse of broken people. Maybe she just had it in her all along.

_**the whole pageantry of the year was awake tingling** _

" Hello sir, How may I help you today" She greeted him, her voice was unfeeling and collected refusing to look up from the computer screen she was gathering information from. His breath hitched, his mouth open with no words pouring out. He knew why he was here, the harsh recollections of the past three days were proof of that. Why was it so hard to put it in words ? Would it be the pain of finally realizing that this is his reality ? The fear of it being out for the public to see ? He already had a foresight of how everything would play out once it did, how everybody's perception of him would amend. Was it that affliction that was hindering him ?

_**near the edge of the sea** _

It seemed like it wasn't the first time this happened to the lady as she typed away patiently waiting for his response. It took exactly three minutes for him to finally catch himself and gather up for him to speak.

_**concerned with itself** _

" I'm here to identify my son " the words dragged tentative and Delicate, like if it were the wrong words to say to somebody, the wrong words for him to hear. The lady nodded expectantly, finally looking up to him blankly waiting for more information. His hand tapped on the edge of the top desk as he huffed.

_**sweating in the sun that melted** _

" Sir I need a name for me to look up the body " she explained nonchalantly, she was clearly losing her patience and Bruce wanted to wring her by her neck for it. Jason was just a body to her, not a person, not a human being that used to talk just like him and her. Jason was just another corpse that suffered a brutal end and somebody had to come and scoop up. He fought so hard for Jason to have more than that and here is the universe fucking him over for the billionth time over his short 32 years of living on this earth.

_**the wings' wax** _

" His name is Jason peter Todd-Wayne, He's fifteen and weighs 150 pounds. He's 5'7 and a half, he was brought here two days ago to be examined. I'm here to examine his body. " Bruce let out bitterly, tears searing his vision and he was glad he decided to wear his sunglasses because they were the only thing keeping this train wreck of himself from falling apart right now.

_**unsignificantly off the coast there was** _

His son was fifteen and a sophomore in high school, he was supposed to finish this art project for school recreating a scene of " a raisin in the sun", he had reached a growth spurt and was finally filling out much to his cheer, thanks to Alfred's long list of vitamins he made him take. He had beautiful curly hair that fell all over his head that Bruce would just adore looking at all day, even if Jason cried and whined about wanting to get it permed like Bruce does with his. He was finally trying to make a friend at school after so many sessions with his guidance counselor advising him to. Him and Dick were finally getting along and they were supposed to go to the watchtower for Jason to spend time with Diana. While, Bruce was away handling monitor duty because goddamnit his boy sure did make a good argument on them spending time together and learning more about what his father does, and goddamn him for falling right for it.

He hasn’t even thought of how this would affect dick,his first son was finally opening up more to Jason and were able to come to a nice compromise.The details of Jason’s death will surely crush him, especially knowing he wasn’t even on earth to do anything to help him. He didn’t even want to begin to comprehend the way dick will eventually lash out at the news. It was completely unfair to him that his brother had died after leaving a mark on him, all of that bonding they worked in on gone.

_**a** **splash quite unnoticed this was** _

He already carried that feeling with him. His son that was finally growing into his own and digging himself deeper into Bruce's heart and soul, leaving his mark everywhere he touched. Only for him to be ripped away from him leaving everything he's ever did undone. 

_**Icarus drowning** _

The lady finally showed some type of feeling after he revealed who his son was, why did it have to take his status for people to show empathy ? Nodding gently as she gave him a sympathetic look. She began to type away in her computer to look up his boy. He blinked back the tears waiting for response, everything speeding up in those few seconds of waiting.

" Your son is already prepped for identification, and is on the third floor in room c27, Mr Wayne. You can take the elevators up to the floor that are on your right. ." She curtly answered him, the sympathetic look still plastered in her lined face. He fucking hated it.

" thank you " he flatly said, motioning to move away from the desk to see his robin. His legs moving efficiently even without his consent, it was like every night out by himself.

" I'm sorry for your loss, Mister Wayne. I'm sure he was a great kid" he heard the lady offer her sympathies from her desk. He couldn't bring himself to look her way and thank her.

* * *

The elevator ride was underwhelming to say the least, there was barely enough air circulation to combat Bruce's erratic heartbeat, even if he was the only person in the room.

When he exited out to the floor, the walls were a ugly shade of beige with grey outlines. Lifeless paintings and fake plants scattered orderly across the long and white halls. Men and women in white lab coats pacing through the spacious floor heading to their destination like he wasn't there. On his left was another front desk, this time it was a male in a black suit working behind of it. He was a beautiful shade toffee and had tight coils, his eyes were concentrated onto the screen, not noticing Bruce approaching him.

" I'm here to get into room c27 " Bruce spoke, taking the other man out of his work trance to immediately recognize him as Bruce Wayne. His eyes wide with shock he nodded and stammered for his words. Even with the surge of annoyance this caused him, he could appreciate the efficiency on this man, even if it was painfully obvious that he was a new to his job. If Jason was here he would've been snickering away at the reaction, he always used to find it hilarious how people used to lose themselves at Bruce's presence even if they both agreed it was annoying. Yet, Jason wasn't here to snicker and soothe away Bruce's quick emotions. Jason was down the hall waiting for Bruce to confirm he wasn't here anymore.

" oh — Um — Down the hall and turn to the left. The numbers would be right on the wall Mr. Wayne" He stammered, giving him the information he needed.

He didn't say thank you, his mouth wasn't in the mood to work with him today and only did the bare minimum. He pushed himself away from the desk and sauntered down the hall, his composure slipping showing the cracks of his mind. He wasn't as delicate with avoiding people, barely being able to move to the side and catching himself swaying a bit. He soon reached his destination, standing in front of the room that held his dead boy. His hand reached the knob and was twisted it, his breaths uneven as it felt like the knob was lava. He opened the metallic door and pushed himself in the room.

He instantly regretted it.

The sight of his ghostly mangled son before him was frightening for him to see. No amount of fear toxin could amount to the feeling of anguish and anxiety he was facing right now. The lifeless slender frame of his bedraggled child was intense for Bruce. The once bright teal eyes and caramel like skin was switched for dull grey and white. The blanket that covered part of him matched his skin creepily. The patches of burn marks littered his son's shoulders and arms, his lip was broken and chapped and his nose chipped. His curls were thankless and pushed back down from his face. The energy is the room was weak and wronged with Bruce being the only source of it .The only thing that was heard was the shallowness of Bruce's breath.

Bruce lurched forward, his balance uneven as the sight of the corpse took him out. His hands touching his son's cold face, his hands burned against the cold as they shook vehemently. Pressure clustered his nose stopping any scent from coming in as the only thing he heard was his heart pounding harshly against his chest. His breathing was ragged and it hurt his lungs, he could feel hot lines paint his face that he realized he was crying.

He couldn't recognize the boy in front of him, he was so different than who he was 4 days ago. He was supposed to becheerful and precocious, running around him and climbing the walls closest to him. He was supposed to be jumping on top of Bruce and screaming at the top of his lungs. He was supposed to be mad at him and throwing randomness his way or be sad and clutching onto him like Bruce was the only branch he had. He wasn't supposed to be laying on a stainless steel table with seedless eyes and limp hands, he wasn't supposed to be this still and breathless. The ghost of what was once his lingering above the surface, tearing him apart creating two of him. Part of him laid down with Jason in his rest, his boys wrangled hands together with his. The other part of him screamed that this was all fake, a ploy that his mind was playing against him. This his Jason was alright and more alive than ever, that he was just wrong.

He felt like he's died three times now. His first time in that night in the alleyway where the crimson blood his parents coated him whole. The second time, was the day where his armor burned like never before, where he screamed Jason's name and pulled at rubble. The little of his face shown from his cowl being covered with ash and soot until he found his son with his own set of soot mixed with his own dried blood covering his face and legs. The third time was now, freezing in the cold examination room holding on to his son's physical being because that's all he has until whoever's upstairs finally had enough of him and takes him down.

Or maybe he was just put on this earth to suffer. For him to keep flying away while the ones he loved burned out and fell. Was this how it felt to be immortal ? To watch everyone you love grow and die ? While you're left alone to pick up the pieces of the grief and agony they left you with. Maybe it was just time that he needed to take his life in his own hands. He knew he wasn't what he painted himself to be, he was always scared of himself, scared of what he could and couldn't do, he always waited for someone to do things for him until they were the ones that got hurt. He was too scared of his feelings to love so he used Dick as an escape for it until he suffocated him and left, Jason came into his life and he was too scared to commit to him and now he's dead. Perhaps, it was his time to stop being scared and handle himself so he could protect anyone else who was unlucky enough to cross paths with him.

Bruce was always told from a young age that he felt and thought too much but did too little to let it all out.He always felt things harder then necessary and replayed it in his mind as a mantra to keep himself down. When he would cry, it would last hours until he tired himself out. When he was younger his lines would cut too deep and hurt too much. He was always so ashamed to laugh because every time he did it would be so loud that it would sound everyone else out. Fear always had Bruce in their grasp and never let him go.

His hand moved away from the corpse's face and onto his own. Taking off his glasses to show his puffed and bloodshot hues. He rubbed away the tears that couldn't stop falling down his face and he battled with himself to breath steady. The coroner was supposed to come in any minute and he couldn't let them see him in this state. Waves of nausea bursted in and out inside of him as he took deep breaths.

He turned away from the body, unable to continue looking at it anymore. He fought with himself to grasp bits of his composure until finally he got it all back and pieced it together. By that time the coroner finally came through the door and greeted him. His name was Dr. Sorowitz , he looked far in his late 40's with thinning salt and pepper hair and a receding hairline. He was far too slender and had wrinkles covering his face.

He looked at the body before him and back to Bruce who was only able to give a hollow face. He sighed and cautiously began to ask him.

" is this your son ?"His voice was kind yet assertive. Bruce nodded, huffing. " Yea it's him." He deadpanned, using his voice hurt. " His name is Jason peter Todd-Wayne and he matches the description " he affirms vocally, his voice was cracked and nasally. Any deepness evaporated with his emotions. Dr. Sorowitz gave a hefty sigh and wrote it down in all the confirmations points he needed to sign in his documentation. Bruce gave his signature to confirm that his son is officially dead.

* * *

Bruce left the building and stepped foot onto the pavement of the city he fought for every night. The same city that took his parents and then went on to take his eldest son's real parentstoo. The same city that hurt his second son to the point Bruce had to give his whole world to fix him back up, only to birth the monster that would rip him down and take him away from him. All his work undone and unappreciated like it always went every night he put the same disgusting waste of space people away, only for them to be out next month.

He went home that day and took off his suit, for the first time in 14 years Bruce allowed those thoughts to creep into his mind and take full on control, making him sink into his bed and not want to get up anymore. Several ways to die circulated his mind as he tried to go to sleep, but like everything else he was terrified of. He was too scared to dream about his son.

Later on in the night, he would get up because he was unable to sleep. He would go down to the cave and put on his suit with muscle memory. 

**_He ended up putting ten petty criminals in the hospital and two mobsters in life support. One of them would die two days later._ **

* * *

**A WEEK AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD**

_Headlines about Bruce Wayne's deceased son circulated everywhere from across the globe. Thousands of people tweeting their condolences for everybody but Bruce to see and mourn too._

He sat across the large computer screen from his spot on his chair in the cave, locked away from the rest of the world to grieve. Deep bags dripped in his eyes, his lips chapped and his nose was red. His legs were covered in the soft dark sweatpants he wore and his arms were covered with the warm grey hoodie he cozied in. His arms were littered in bruises and cuts from the past 4 nights of battling harshly in the streets as his entire body was coated with bruised from his recklessness in his fights. Newsletters were already reporting and the Batman's new harsher approach, as statistics already came out that hospitalization raised 6%. No one has seen robin out along side him ever since. Yet, people were too scared to ask why. He was constantly uncomfortable with how the pain seethed into every part of him. He would go to sleep if it wasn't for the fears of seeing his son's mangled body screaming at him for how he's failed, he didn't want to repeat the nightmares of his parents death anymore either.

He was sure they would be disappointed, on what he has become. Disgusted on the stupid mindset he has formulated for himself, ' _You can't change the world, Bruce_ ' they would lecture him. ' _You let the most important thing a man could have slip away for your senseless game_ ' would be their punchline. Bruce would agree with them, telling himself the same. He was a blind man for not realizing it when he had the chance, now the two things he loved were far away from him.

The manor had been cold and empty, Alfred had locked himself away to mourn privately. His father figure never allowed himself to fall in front of him but he knew he was grieving just as hard as he was. He only saw the older man when he brought him his food and medications.They barely talked and when they did it was only Alfred who said the words. His voice had become dormant ever since he left the coroner's office.

He stared at the reminder on his screen that he had to head to a league meeting in an hour. He loathed the idea of being up in the watchtower, anyone who knew who he was under the mask would surely know what's happened and have the balls to talk to him about it. He tried to decline but they said it was urgent that he'd be there, he didn't understand why he was so necessary. Out of all of them he was the weakest, he wasn't a god or even godly. He wasn't an alien that could read minds and become translucent, or have super speed powerful enough to change timelines. He didn't have the powers to control the see or release sonic screams that could kill within close proximity. Hell, there was already another highly skilled rich vigilante that could pick up where he left off just fine.

He didn't want to work with anyone else so soon, he didn't want to force his mind and body to compromise. He couldn't face seeing Diana's smile knowing Jason wasn't here to see it with him. He couldn't be by Clark's side knowing the other man would grab and touch him constantly, he couldn't bare the thought of Clark knowing he's not okay. Trying to fix him like Superman always does, because he was a lost cause. He couldn't deal with Barry's constant chatter because he already knew he would mix it up with Dick's and Dick doesn't know about Jason yet because he's in space with his friends.

Dick was all he had left and he wasn't here with him, Dick hated him and rightfully so. He'd rather not here Oliver's lectures of how awful and neglectful of a parent he is because he's always right about them, even if he showed he wasn't any better. He was lucky his son was still alive and well, still being so sweet and smart and gentle because Roy Harper was definitely a force to be reckoned with. He couldn't deal with Dinah's scolding or Arthur's playful insults that always undermined him. He couldn't deal with Hal's outbursts because they always were so similar to Jason's. Hal who would surely have no problem telling him how reckless and emotionally unstable he is, that he should've never been trusted with any of them in the first place. That bringing children in a war filled with adults was just WRONG.

If Jason was here he would've cursed him out to get up and get his shit together.

Nonetheless, he got up from his spot in his chair and dragged himself to the showers. He took his clothes off and turned on the water. He entered and soaked himself in the warm liquids, he stayed under the pressure and rubbed his hands over his face. The razor in his hand carefully came up to his face and cut off the soft wet hairs that covered his jaw, careful not to let his shaky hands nick his cheek. He scrubbed soap against his skin until it became a bright red and burned for him to stop and rinsed himself until he felt like rubber.

He driedand covered himself with a robe, looking through his options of suits. So many he wore during his time with Dick and Jason both as robins. He chose the one before any of them. He knew how dangerous this one was for him, even with its advanced armor it couldn't sustain what the others could, after years of modifications the others had this one was simply street level.

Getting ready was slower than it usually was, moving towards the zeta tubes was even slower.

* * *

A blur filled Bruce's vision as he was transported to the watchtower. The bright lights and shining white walls taking over his line of sight, heroes of all over going about their business. None of them knowing who he is under the cowl, it was oddly satisfying more than ever. Not having to deal with having constant eyes on him and pitying looks sent his way.They had no clue of the mental trauma he's been put through or the amount of people he's lost.

All they knew was that the bat was in a bad mood and to clear away. He pushed past any of them that got in his way with a lack of problems, making a b line for the conference room. This was going to be as quick and painless as possible, get in, listen and get out. He just hoped that it would be that easy.

He pushed the doors open,a wave of wind plowed making his cape swoosh with his entrance. He made his way to his chair at the edge of the table,without making eye contact with anybody. ' _get in , get out_ ' he repeatedly told himself.

Now noticingeveryone's eyes on him, none of them with their mask or cowl on.They never did anything like this unless it was an extreme personal matter. This wasn't a briefing for a mission, it was an interrogation against him. His muscles stiffened as his breath hitched, careful not to show any emotion. He needed to keep his composure for him to get out of this.

" Bruce" Clark was the first one to start off and Bruce didn't know how he wasn't across the table already trying to plummet Clark's face in. This was clearly an ambush and he fell right for it.

"Take your cowl off" he ordered, his eyes glaring into his. His muscles tightened at the demand and he was extremely hesitant. His mouth pulled into a tight snarl and he wanted to find words for his discomfort but his voice was still so dormant. He was wished he could just scream his head off to all of them, shame them for their lack of consideration. He wanted to be able to get up and kick his chair across the room and call them every name in the book. Jason would've probably supported him, probably would've stuck his tongue out at them for getting him mad.

Unfortunately, He physically couldn't do any of that because his mind was so fucking low and empty, so he settled with reaching for his cowl and taking it off. His expression hasn't changed and he didn't dare keep his eyes off of Clark the entire time. The room was silent as everyone expected him to speak up by now, subtly aghast by his lack of opinion.

" Is it all true ?" Clark questioned, his voice softer this time but still affirmative. The tension in the room didn't lessen but seemed to escalate. His teeth clenched aggressively into each other as his gloved fingers dig into the side of his dark hair. His head depending on his right arm to keep it afloat. His mind and body were in a confused state as primary emotions clashed together, he never felt so out of control from himself. Screaming ' _yes_ ' would've never felt better, to let it all out on the table right now, to tell them about every minuscule detail of how he raced around warehouses looking for him, that the reason they're all here today was because he was four seconds late.

He compromised with a weak nod, closing his eyes in the process. He wanted to rest and take a long nap, he wanted to wake up and find his son with a book in his hand and with a grin on his face waiting to tell him all about it. 

There were halts of breath all over the room, something had fallen to the floor and clearly his lack of response was urging for more calamity to etch the surface.

" Well ? Aren't you going to answer us, damnit! A kid is now dead, Bruce." This time it's Oliver who speaks and by the sound of a thud, someone had to have hit him for it. Something in Oliver's tone sparked something in Bruce, a new type of anger. One he has never experienced before begins to heat up and rise throughout his body, overpowering the emotion turmoil in his body.

He knew this conversation was going to come between them, Oliver never knew how to keep his dumbass out of his business, but it was the audacity to come at him so publicly that did it for him. He should be lucky as a father he never had to experience what he's going through. He didn't even know Jason like that to feel any certain way for him to react in that manner. A child is dead but it wasn't HIS child that was lost. His son was in space with his other one, taking down some type of intergalactic force that other kids would only dream about in playgrounds. His son got to come home and pat him on the back, his son was going to be six feet under the ground in about a week.

Finally, some type of sound burst through his lips. It hurt his much too dry throat but he couldn't stop it no matter how much he pleaded with his own mind.

It took him a moment to realize that he was laughing, the laugh that he had pushed down for so long, flowed out of him with belligerence. It's sound waves went it's way through the room and filled up drowning everybody else out. He was pretty sure they were going to check him for joker gas by the way he was going, he was pretty sure tears managed to escape his eyelids during his mantra. The harsh thudding of his heart was back for what felt like the thousandth time this week. He brought his hands to his rubbing his eyelids gently wiping away the excess water, he turned to meet Oliver in the eyes, a newfound energy in him. He was sure his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, it was probably absolutely terrifying to see him like this and god knows how much scarier this was going to get. He kicked his feet up to the table, pushing his chair back to lean in on it. He posed himself as comfortable but was stable enough to attack if needed.

" Have you heard from Roy yet?" the question seemed so out of place since the only reason they seemed to be here was because of his insignificance as a proper parent. But right now Bruce really didn't fucking care, he genuinely cared to know if Oliver has talked to him. To remind him of the privilege he has to even be able to because god fucking damn does Oliver love to talk about struggle but never realizes how much he has in-front of him.

" That's not what this is about, Bruce" Dinah pitched in, her hand laying protectively on her husband's own. It was pretty smart of her to realign the situation, the subtle warning to back off was clear as day. Would've worked if he was calmer, more steady minded, so clearly it wasn't going to work now.

He ignored her, pressing in his question. " I know he's in space right now, with Dick. They're probably having fun, I know how much you worry for him though. Has he told you anything about the mission ? I bet it's exciting." He deadpanned, his voice was still rusty for not being used much, without his modulator he sounded much lighter, nothing like his dark persona. He probably sounded condescending, some would call him patronizing.

" He's fine" Oliver answered back bluntly, his voice darker than his own. He could tell he was angry by the way his lips thinned and his eyes were trained on him. Anyone who didn't know them in real life would think they pulled a freaky Friday and switched personalities.

He forced a smile on his lips, the cracks of his dry lips stung so much. His teeth clenched together as he subconsciously was focusing on the thudding of his heartbeat. His mind was spiraling and he felt like he was buried under a bunch of soft post it notes.

" Oh great did you tell him you love him? I know I would have." Bruce tried to sound casual but it came out with more emotion than he initially thought, he was pretty sure his voice cracked a bit. He really couldn't keep track of himself anymore, was he mad ? Sad ? Glad? Depressed ? All four ?

" I know none of us could understand what you're going through —" Barry tried with him, Barry was always the soft spoken one, probably could be the most understanding out of all of them. He understood this was escalating too quickly for them. He was becoming to open and aggressive, way too out of line.

" You're exactly right on that! So help me understand why the fuck are we even here. Is this all your moment to tell me I fucked up ? How it would've turned out differently if one of you took him in and raised him instead of me" He barked out, he couldn't believe he trusted these people at one point. All those years of constantly trying to prove himself never worked. The hours he spent obsessing over minuscule things for all of them to be safe, the amount of times he was willing to sacrifice himself for their lives only to have them shame him in return. All those times he reassured himself that his sons were safe being around them, that it wouldn't hurt sharing what's his a little bit and this is what he gets in return ? They should've been the ones that were taken from him.

" none of us are saying that" Dinah pleaded with him, concern was all over her as she looked directly at him.

" You're doing a damn shitty job proving otherwise" he growled out, his voice boomed with rage as his hand slammed down on the steel table, meeting direct eye contact with her. There was no need to hide it, he understood. He wouldn't trust somebody like himself with a child either, he was dangerous and unpredictable, he was selfish enough to put his own goals before the needs of a child and that's what got Jason killed.

" listen spooky, I'm really sorry for your loss " he is too " but we have to discuss this . We can't just let this go unsaid, I'm pretty sure there are some services that we can find that can help you cope with this properly." Hal interjected, his voice combatted his own. Hal was always able to amaze him with his lack of intelligence but this was a different breed, no amount of services could get him through this. There isn't even a word to describe a parent that lost their child. How would they find something that can ease the damage ?

" What happened isn't any of your business." There it was, that steady harsh voice he's been looking for this whole conversation. His eyes glowered in defense, if looks could kill everybody in the room would be dead. The anger that thrummed consistently through his veins pulsing faster. His moods were constantly changing, every feeling was so intense and draining to feel, he was fighting everybody and thing in the room, he didn't even know if he was winning or not.

" Bruce, Jason meant as much to me as he meant to you" Diana tried to reason, standing in opposition to him. In any other moment he probably would've taken this as a note to chill out and breathe but he was too angry to care. His hands shook aggressively as he pointed his hand to Diana's face, how could she even say something like that? She never had to raise a child. Jason wasn't hers and would NEVER be, he didn't carry _HER_ last name. He didn't cry on _HER_ shoulder when he was hurting inside, She didn't pick him up all those times when he fell. She didn't sit through all those screaming matches where he would shout to the top of his lungs and break on everything that went wrong. She wasn't robbed of a warm embrace that you looked forward to holding in every morning and a face that held something so safe that you would protect it with your life. Jason was his and his only, he raised that boy alone just like he did with Dick and all of them must have lost their minds to have the balls to have him come here and spill all this fake concern and lies to him.

" YOU WERE NEVER HIS MOTHER, DIANA. YOU WERE NOTHING BUT AN IDEOLOGY. SOMETHING FOR HIM TO OCCASIONALLY LOOK UP TO, BUT YOU DID NOTHING FOR HIM. YOU WERE / _NOTHING_ / TO HIM. " He lashed like out, his vocals could probably reach the ceiling. He was tired of them always trying to push him down and prove how much better they all were than him. He saw the way Diana was hurt by his words but he couldn't help but enjoy it a little. To finally get out what he felt, and tell them that they were nothing to his son. That he was the only one who lost something because damn it he was the one who poured himself in.

" Bruce that's enough !" Clark yelled, standing up from where he's sat from. The anger that was mounting from hearing Bruce endlessly shut down the rest of their teammates finally rippling through his friend.

" what's enough ?" He countered back with ease, his fury springing back to life once again. It was never enough with him, everything in his life was always dissatisfied. His services were always so minimal compared to what everyone else brought to the table.

" The fact that you all thought it was a good idea to ambush me and expected me to be fucking FINE with it" he shrieked, his hands were all over the place as his whole body was vibrating, his teeth chattered together as his eyes burned from not blinking, irritation controlling his every move.

" A child died on your watch ! Fighting your endless war against crime far too young. You cannot blame us for wanting answers on what the hell happened. We all understand that the pain you're feeling is immeasurable and we all wish to help you out in any way we can but that information is critical because you're one of the original seven ." Clark explained, his voice didn't falter, not like his. He was strong with every word he said, and his eyes was filled with sympathy for him, yearning to care for him because that's what Clark always did for him, he cared and tried to understand him. No matter how many times Bruce pushed him away and disregarded him, he stayed. 

The information of the brutality that was his son's last few hours on earth. The knowledge of how Bruce's sanity was shredded slowly from existence as he rode across towns looking for his son. The insight of Bruce's hands stinging in agony as he moved bars of iron and sheets of metal that buried on top of his robin. The picture of his body twisted in inhuman angles, cuts so deep you can see tissue and bone with coal coating it's outer parts. The feeling of having a warm body that wasn't breathing pressed against your armor.

At that moment, all the fight left him, all that boiling rage, that tingling sensation of fear and the hammer of grief evaporated. A wave of sadness weighed down on him like a anchor keeping him in place, disheartened thoughts took over the surface of his mind. His expressions churned and became vacant, his hands dropped to his sides as he stared intenselyat the ' _**S**_ ' that carved into Clark's chest.

" He was tortured for hours. He suffered severe lacerations on his arms and collarbone" _Joker opening him up like a piece of fruit._ "He was beaten to an inch of his life, his lungs collapsed and his liver ruptured." _A crowbar being brought down over and over again on his fragile frame. Continuing to break his bones._ " He had major damage to his right eye, his cornea was broken and optic nerve was severed." _From being kicked repeatedly by that bastard’s leather shoes._ " There was an explosion in the warehouse and he was still inside. He was covered in burn marks of varying degrees. " _the building crumpled on top of his already bruised and broken body. Iron and wood burned into his son's skin like hot wax, leaving its mark on his once soft skin. He drowned in smoke and ash and was left buried in the rubble._

The details of Jason's death left the room stagnant with despair and shock. Their faces were twisted in dejection of the tale of robin. No child should have to face such cruelty . Especially a child with so much in front of them.

" Holy fuck" Hal managed out, moving back from his seat racking a hand through his brown hair. The knowledge of what happened clearly taking a hit on him, it was terrifying knowledge to hear.

Minutes went by without a word, his eyes didn't move from the spot of where Clark's S was. Even if the man already moved from his spot, coming towards him. A strong hand grabbed at his bicep, but it wasn't pressing in like it new they needed to be gentle with him, he hated knowing it was Clark who was doing it. The man probably realized how old this suit was, noticing it's lack of lead lining. He probably saw every single bruise he had, piecing it together with how harshly he's been fighting back at his home. He probably heard the different patterns his heart was beating. Clark was seeing right through him like he always managed to do and he couldn't stand it.

The punch flew so fast that he didn't even realize he threw it, his swollen knuckles screamed in agony when it hit Clark's cheek. His wrist twisted harshly and he was thankful Clark when with the punch or else his whole arm probably would've broke right there. He pulled himself away, holding his wrist in pain.

" I'm officially resigning from the Justice league, I'm pulling all my funds from here as well." were his final words as he rushed out the room. His cowl rushed back on him, he exited the watchtower as quick as he could.

_**That night 25 people were hospitalized, all of them with life threatening injuries.** _

**TWO WEEKS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD**

Bruce rushed back to the manor, his clothes soaked in sweat dripping all over the carpet. He had just finished running 7 miles outside, only stopping because of Gotham’s harsh rains hindering him. He threw his shoes off thoughtlessly, not caring if it would make his butler mad later on. His mood was sensational, the best he’s felt in the past two weeks even if he’s barely gotten any sleep, running on a two hour nap he got a day ago.

He didn’t fully understand why he felt so light, and airy, he still had the other pessimistic feelings creeping under the surface but ever he got up he couldn’t stop doing. Maybe it was just his way of coping, he just needed a distraction from everything that has been happening. He lost a good soldier in war, and he couldn’t let his honor fall by moping around.

So Bruce raced through the manor, heading towards his room. He needed to take a shower because god he felt fucking gnarly and he needed to get dressed to head into Gotham. He was expected to come into work today, the public needed to see his face and confirm that he was okay and ready to get back outside. That he was the strong man the media portrayed him to be, to show his tragedies didn’t shape or tear him down in any way.

He made a harsh turn entering the library, deciding it was a great idea to use the secret passageway that would lead him to the second floor. He sauntered gracefully through the isles of books, his fingertips brushing against the plethora of shelved classics, the feeling of them scraping at his fingers was sensational.

He reached the end of the isle he was in turning this left with swiftness, only to be surprised with a familiar smile so one so warm that melted Bruce’s heart down and perfect coils that would bounce in your hand.

**_Jason_**.

His body ran cold, freezing in place as his eyes burned at the sudden lack of blinking. It felt like time had suddenly stopped, his heart stopping within his chest at the sight before him.

His son, his little soldier, was standing right in front of him, alive and well. His knees buckled from under him as he nearly fell to the ground, catching himself last minute. He

He lurched himself forward, getting closer to his child. ‘ _you finally came home_ ’ he thought gratefully to himself.

He touched his boys beautiful skin only to realize it felt too unrealistic, it was like ice and too smooth like glass, no softness to where it should’ve been softened by flesh.A harsh realization overlapped Bruce as the feeling of dread swallowed him. He wasn’t real, because his son was already buried six feet under. He died two weeks ago and Bruce couldn’t revive him.

The visions of his son’s sweet face melted much to his displeasure. The feeling to hold on to his kid bursted in Bruce, his mind begged for Bruce to do something to keep his boy here with him but his body shut down completely, staying still in the position he was in kneeling in the ground. He felt completely numb to everything around him.

Reality hit him like a truck when he realized he was looking at his reflection, his own curly hair sticking to his forehead, he hasn’t had the time to relax them back down. He never hated himself more, for how much they reminded him of Jason’s.

“ I’m calling the office” Alfred’s voice could be heard from the distance, concern written all over his tone. “ you are in no condition to go in public the way you’ve been behaving.” He finalized, there was no room for discussion in his tone, not like Bruce would’ve been able to put up enough a protest, his footsteps could be heard against the soft fabric the library had to offer.

He didn’t go to that meeting but instead locked himself in his room, he stayed under the steaming warm waters his showers had to offer for an hour until every piece of his skin was wiped clean. He would later ask Alfred to close off the library for him not to be able to walk in it again. He’d thought it would be best for everyone if they weren’t reminded of who’s favorite spot that was.

**_That night 35 people were hospitalized, four of them would end up staying in life long comas, one of them would die a month later for not recovering from their injuries._ ** ****  
  


* * *

**ONE MONTH AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD.**

His hands were in so much pain, his torso was jacked up. A bullet hole resting right in his rib cage as the seething pain intensified every time he brought his hands up. Everything around him was drowned out by the cracking of broken bones as his bruised knuckles plummeted into the joker's writhing body. 

No matter how many times he brought him in, the lack of care for the amount of times he fought for justice. The system always _FAILED_ him. Continuing to let this piece of garbage filth walk the earth bringing destruction with him.

It was enough tonight, seeing this monster hold on to that boy by his neck pleading for his life triggered something inside of him. Reminded him of so many dead children that were burned and fell at the hands of this calamity of a man. He couldn't keep coming out to see him destroy more families, he didn't have the patience for justice anymore.

So he battled him on the streets of Gotham, taking every punch, kick and blow this sick son of a bitch had for him. He got himself shot and busted his lip for him to get to his goal. Clutching the clown by his neck he dragged him into the still alleyways Gotham provided.

He was sure he broke more than 47 bones in the clown's body, probably ruptured a lung, maybe even gave him a hernia. It wasn't enough of course but it was apart of the process. 

About to continue, he felt a presence join him in the dark alleyway that Gotham had to offer. A wet swooshing sound was heard from behind him. The footsteps clashing into the ground were easily heard from where he was kneeling.

" Batman" Of course it was Superman. Clark always had a knack for not being able to read the room, always picking the worst times to put in his input. He should know that he wasn't welcomed here, he made that very much clear in the last meeting they had.

" this isn't your city" Bruce growled out, the modulator darkening his voice as his lips tightened . He dropped the joker's limp body down to the wet ground to let the pouring rain wash the filth of his own blood off. Turning to see America's beacon of hope behind him .

" What are you doing ? This isn't you." Clark pleaded with him, his authoritative voice was softer than usual, this was Clark who was speaking to him, not Superman.

" I'm doing what I should've done a LONG time ago" he answered harshly, refusing to meet the other in the eyes. He was doing what was right, he finally realized what he needed to do. He was going to rewrite his wrongs, hostility brimming the surface. He had a goal that he was going to succeed in by the end of this conversation.

" We don't kill , you let the law handle this. That's something you've sworn by " Clark interfered, his voice became harsher with those words, the rain falling down harder with him. Reminding him of his old self, the naive part of him that believed that would be the answer to helping the city.

" how many innocent lives have to be taken for us to finally realize he needs to be stopped ?" He pleaded with the kryptonian behind of him, his breaths were jagged as black spots clouded the sides of his vision. He was swaying on his sides as his legs were going to give out soon. He was losing too much blood and needed to get back to the manor soon, though he wasn't in a rush. Anything that happened to him tonight was fine by him.

" I don't care." He deadpanned, his voice automatically became steel. " I'm not going to let him ruin yours anymore" Clark stated, stomping his foot down in emphasis. He flinched at the gesture, reaching for his belt. He didn't know what Clark was willing to be capable of tonight, he surged a kick hitting the sociopath right in the rib cage. Much to Clark's displeasure, the alien gritting his teeth at the sound of the fractured bones.

" don't you get it ? He already HAS. He took away something too personal to me" He tried to reason. _He took Jason_. The love he felt for him. A love that no one would able to understand. A love that couldn't be repaired over night or even in a hundred years. He took the same for so many other parents out there as well, so many loved ones dead out of senseless violence.

" Awe batsy I'm flattered. I never knew I could manifest so much power !" Joker cackled, his words muffled from the blood pouring out from his old rusted mouth, he didn't understand how he was still talking, he was pretty sure he shattered his jawline. He probably wasn't hitting the bastard as hard as he thought, moving from his position and grabbing the joker's jaw, twisting it in such a inhuman way. A satisfying crack came from it, feeling joker's body spasm in pain under him was overwhelmingly therapeutic. He contemplated on why he hasn't done this a long time ago.

" Batman !" Clark yelled, stepping closer to the injured man causing Bruce to step back like an hurt puppy. Clark took notice of Bruce's hesitation, offense showed in his features. Has there relationship deteriorated this far? After years of building and sacrifice, how could he let it all deter within a month? Bruce couldn't be capable of such a drastic trait.

" robin would've never wanted you to do this" Clark beseeched, his eyes were desperate to get into Bruce's. Trying to find some part in him that could put an end to this tirade Bruce has been on. He wanted his old friend back, he wanted to help him through all that aggression and sorrow. Bruce needed someone to open up to, he's became too emotionally unstable. He was vulnerable to the world as both Bruce and The bat, news articles of drastic behavior changed in both of his personas flooded the timelines. Rumors of him not going to work consistently and was recklessly cutting ties with other business stormed his office every week. People were afraid of the Batman again, and even if the crime rates were down by 42% percent the hospitalization rates were higher than ever. He was sure there was a warrant for the Batman's arrest in the GCPD already.

' _Robin isn’t here to stop me_ ' Bruce thought bitterly to himself. His hands clutched harder on his belt, his teeth scratched the inside of his cheek.

" you don't get to pull that card on me" _you have a son waiting for you at home._ He left out. Clark had a wife and a beautiful child,he lived in a peaceful city . He was a great leader, one that so many looked up to. He would never understand what it's like to be in his position. To be alone and barely anyone to care for him, to be feared by people who didn’t know who you were and to have people pity you everywhere you went.

Clark knew he was right, he couldn't speak for Jason barely knowing the kid. He knew that this Bruce stemmed from his death. He couldn't even bare to relate to losing his son. 

" Please just come with me, I can help you" he offered instead, he knew just how basic those words were to Bruce. He probably heard those words too many times to count. He just didn't know what to do anymore, Bruce was always three steps ahead but you can always sense what he could do next. Now he was just unpredictable, completely unhinged.

" If you wanted to help me, you would leave." Bruce demanded, turning his back away from Superman, grabbing the joker by the neck pulling him up, his fingers wrapping around tightly.

" you can't keep doing this to yourself." Clark said, taking this chance to move closer, every second counted. " you're deteriorating, hard. If you keep going down like this, your going to get yourself killed" he warned, he didn't want to go to his funeral. He knew his friend had so much more to live for, he knew Bruce long enough to know he could he through all this. The death of the Joker wouldn't change anything, it won't bring Jason back. It won't bring back all those who died from joker's grasp. It would only make Bruce spiral deeper, it won't be the last death he would cause, it would simply be the start of more.

" So be it then" Bruce admitted, his hands clutching tighter. His thumb pressing against the bastard's pulse feeling it slow down. Sirens were heard from the distance, they've been looking for the joker for the past hour. They've must've got a lead that got them here.

" Bru — Batman." Clark tried, Bruce's name nearly slipping from his mouth.He surged forward once again, now touching Bruce's shoulder. The other man nearly jumped from where he stood. He was desperate at this point, he needed to get them both out of this alleyway. He needed to get Bruce back to Alfred to get medical care, he was done watching his friend deteriorate from a distance. It was time he stepped in to salvage what he could.

" Please, let me take you home" Clark begged him, his other arm grabbing on to Bruce's parallel. The sirens got closer to them every second, if Clark didn't get them out of here in the next two minutes they both would be spotted.The body dropped down to the ground, making a harsh thumping noise against the wet concrete. Bruce glared downward, all the fight led his body as his muscles visibly relaxed as he stumbled into the other man.

It was easy picking Bruce up, his arms fitting under his rib cage with familiar ease. Flying through the fog and rain was a bit different though, floatingup in the air to see the cops already nearing the scene they were just in, rain drops clouded his vision forcing him to pay attention not to run into anything as he flew over the rooftops Gotham provided. The city was so lively even at night. They were near the outskirts of the city before Bruce asked, no **_DEMANDED_** , to be put down, with a hesitation coming from Clark. He reluctantly lowered the both of them.

" What's wrong ?" Clark asked innocently, as if he didn’t just see Bruce nearly kill a man and realize that Bruce was completely fine with his own death. As if Bruce wasn’t bleeding out right now, and speaking of which he was oddly paler than usual.

Bruce tipped his cowl off, he was barely recognizable with bags puffing out under his eyes,sinking in his hues. His skin was ghostly and blemished, his blue oculars were clouded with a dull grey. This was nothing he was familiar with.

‘ _uh oh’_ Clark thought to himself, he mentally prepped himself for what was coming. Ready to finally listen and talk, even if he kept telling himself Bruce dreadfully needed some medical care.

“ what’s wrong ?” Bruce asked rhetorically, sucking his tongue making a click sound. He nodded his head as he looked away, like if he was processing what was just asked of him. He spaced out for a moment, thinking of everything that has gone wrong in the past few months, his mind surging through different scenarios like a car in a high speed chase. It hit him like a light bolt what he wanted to say next, turning his whole body faster than what his current state could handle, sending black stars to cloud his vision.

" no matter what I do, it’s never fucking enough. It will always get tougher and tougher, I will always fucking lose. ” he declared, his voice loud enough for everyone on the block to hear. His voice drastically changed from where it was just a few seconds ago, from hoarse and controlled to a burst of flames. His eyes stared intensely when he looked at Clark. His eyes were trained straight at him.

He flinched at the newfound aggression, the switches between Bruce’s emotions were frightening. He didn’t know what he couldn’t do to set him off, everything seemed to trigger a different side of him.

Clark brought his hands up cautiously, they were in the same position they were just a few minutes ago. He gulped down, thinking carefully of what he should say next.

“ You’ve done so much good, and saved so many lives” he cautiously started with, Clark made sure his voice was steady and neat, even a hint of hesitation could set Bruce off more. He made sure he spoke with understanding, continuing gratefully taking a few steps closer to Bruce. “ You changed many lives too, you’ve helped me become a better man.” He meant that with his whole soul. “ You took in Dick at his worst and created one of the strongest young man I’ve ever known” The words slipped out even if it kept his steady composure, he was bordering risky, taking slower steps precautious it, respecting the little space Bruce had left. “ You’re still the strongest man I know, I’ve never met someone who can get up like you do” now he was just speaking from the heart, becoming more comfortable with Bruce’s now dormant state.

And there it was, that flash of Bruce moving straight towards him. He moved with such a quickness that would leave Barry rightfully embarrassed as he clashed on him, the tales of his wrist blades tickling at Clark’s skin.

“ you can’t just pick me up from this type of shit, Clark” He cried out, his wrists slamming down at Clark’s chest. His wrist blades should’ve impaled Clark, but luckily he wasn’t human, it did rip at Clark’s suit though, making a irritating ripping noise that now was singing over again in his head. The ripping sound going like clockwork with the piles of other shit that circulated through his brain.‘ _He won’t understand_ ’ **rip** ‘ _You should’ve killed him_ ’ **crack** ‘ _You’re a moron_ ’ **rip** ‘ _you just keep failing_ ’ _**creek**_.

The scariest part about this was that Clark was starting to realize he couldn’t pick Bruce up from this. That clearly this stemmed from something much deeper than Jason’s death or Dick’s absence in his life, of course they added fuel to the fire but this was Bruce being not okay.

“ I see him everywhere, everywhere I look he’s staring at me. ” he broke, a month ago he was afraid Because the dreams became so intense he avoided sleep, now his fear poured into his day to day life. Every time he passed the library, he was there smiling at him. In the dark his eyes shined brighter than ever deep into him. In his dreams he would smile in his arms with every cut and burn he suffered from that night. He was always there and he couldn’t make him leave.His hand curling into his new curls, he hasn’t done anything with them in a while, he hasn’t gotten himself around to.

“ He’s not here anymore,” Clark stated, his arms wrapped protectively around Bruce’s body, holding him tightly against his chest. “ and I know it hurts but he wouldn’t want you spiraling out of control. He would want you to keep fighting” he murmured into his ear, he may not have known the new robin for long but he was damn sure this wouldn’t be what he wanted. Bruce needed to get better for the sake of keeping his memory alive, he needed to get better to try with his living son. To integrate back into society and live his life .

" Just get the fuck out of my city —" He shoved him away, escaping his from strong hands. He now couldn’t stand the sight of the super. His cowl back over his face, making him away from the world. He needed to cover himself. Before Clark could get a word in, Bruce was grappling away into Gotham's stormy night. 

_**One person was hospitalized that night, they were in a coma for 6 months.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I hoped you enjoyed my fic. I’m sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I finished this fic at 4 am and I’m sleep deprived so :’) .
> 
> I love it when you guys leave comments under my posts, it gives me so much happiness I could just burst 🥰. 
> 
> The name of the poem is:  
> The landscape of the fall of Icarus   
> The author is: Williams Carlos Williams 
> 
> My tumblr is: gothamstwink  
> my wattpad: LONGDICKSTYLES


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